


it's not like me (to be so mean)

by orphan_account



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Cheating, Eating Disorders, Gen, M/M, Sad Mark Lee (NCT), Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships, Unusual Syntax
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-12
Updated: 2018-12-12
Packaged: 2019-09-16 17:54:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16958751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Yukhei doesn’t ask why Mark’s hips feel sharper than usual. He doesn’t ask why Mark only wants to drink water or diet soda after they’re dressed. Yukhei doesn’t ask questions. Mark likes it like that.





	it's not like me (to be so mean)

**Author's Note:**

> this is 100% a vent piece and i'm in no way trying to promote eating disorders/eating disorder behaviors. please get help if you have an ed and please don't read this if you're easily triggered by ed related things.

Mark is cold.

His hands rest in his pockets as he walks across campus, bony and icy through the fabric of his wool jacket. The sky rumbles above, all greys on pale blues and the damp pre-rain air. His breath puffs out in front of him, and he momentarily wonders if he could disappear with it. He’s been walking for hours. Walking, walking, walking. Right foot, left foot, right foot left foot. Breath in, breath out. His name.  
Mark feels his vision go black for a moment as he turns. Jungwoo is walking towards him, a hand searching in his coat pocket and a smile that could warm Mark’s cold hands. Mark smiles, accepting the energy Jungwoo offers him while pretending to listen to what the other is saying. He can barely hear. Napalms of rain cascade down from the skies, and Jungwoo squeals and runs into his dorm, waving at Mark before disappearing.

Mark is wet.

Now his hair is soaked, his hands feel like cold stones in his pockets. He doesn’t know where he’s walking anymore. His phone had told him long ago that he had reached ten thousand steps, but he can’t help but feel like he needs more, to walk for longer.  
He finds himself outside of Yukhei’s apartment, half a mile from the edge of campus. His stomach growls. He ignores it. He also ignores the throbbing in his feet and the broken elevator, hauling himself up the stairs to Yukhei’s apartment. He ignores the dripping sound that follows him, the dull concussion of water drops falling from his coat onto the carpet. He knocks.

  
Yukhei slides open the door, and the familiar smell of marijuana and cologne greets Mark as he looks up at the boy. Yukhei doesn’t speak, just lets Mark into his apartment without a word. His sloped grin sears its way into Mark's mind. Mark slides onto the couch, and Yukhei passes him a freshly lit blunt. Mark already knows that it’s the kind that won’t make him hungry. Yukhei is considerate like that. They sit in silence, smoke passing from their lips. Tongues passing between mouths. Needs passing between bodies. Neither of them speak.

  
Yukhei doesn’t ask why Mark’s hips feel sharper than usual. He doesn’t ask why Mark only wants to drink water or diet soda after they’re dressed. Doesn't ask why after all these hours, Mark doesn't eat.  Yukhei doesn’t ask questions. Mark likes it like that.  
Jungwoo’s energy bar lies in Yukhei’s trash bin, untouched.

  
When Mark returns to his own dorm, Taeyong is sitting on the couch. He barely registers in his mind.

  
“Where were you?”

 

“Out.”

 

“With Yukhei?”

  
“Yes.”

  
“ _Mark_.”

  
“You’re not my fucking mom.”

  
“Then stop acting like you need one.”

  
“Can you just fuck _off_?” Mark hisses, wet hair still dripping down his face.

  
“No, Mark, I can’t,” Taeyong says. His voice is level, it always is. “I won’t sit by and watch you destroy your body again. Yukhei isn’t good for you and you know that.”

  
“If you don’t want to watch it, you can fucking leave,” Mark spits. The ice in his hands mixes with his boiling blood. He feels something move in his stomach. Mark doesn’t want to hurt Taeyong, and he knows his words are venom. He knows. But he doesn’t want to eat, he can’t. He can't look Taeyong in the eyes. He looks at his hands. Bony and fat. Cold and burning. Heavy and light. 

  
Taeyong stands, and Mark knows he’s gone too far. “I’ll be at Ten’s.”

Mark is alone.

Mark is alone when he steps into his bathroom, mirror long neglected. He showers in scalding hot water, praying it will thaw his bones. He’s alone when he steps out of the shower. He’s alone when he walks into his room. He’s alone when he pulls in his sweatpants, the drawstrings pulled as tight as he can get them.  
Mark is alone when he gets a text from a thousand miles away.

_**Hyuk ♡ 18:33** _  
_**I hope you had a good day!** _

_**Did you eat anything?** _

_**Me 18:34** _

_**Yeah :)** _

_**[File attached]** _

_**Hyuk ♡ 18:36** _  
_**That’s my boy :*** _

Mark sends an old snapchat he took of him eating noodles before _everything_ happened. A pit forms in his stomach, but it’s outweighed by the emptiness next to it.

Mark is alone. 


End file.
